


HOW I MET... On The Heath

by Sara_The_Scribbler



Series: HOW I MET... [2]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Innuendo, Kissing, Meet-Cute, More innuendo, Romance, Writing, dream come true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26424760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sara_The_Scribbler/pseuds/Sara_The_Scribbler
Summary: This is the second in a series of HOW I MET...Twice as long as the first.Rather than being specific to a fandom or character there are no names. But it is completely based on someone.  If you know, you know.I should really be more careful when taking photos.  Not paying attention to where I was going turned out to be the happiest accident of my life.
Relationships: Actor / OC, Actor / Original Female Character, Actor / Reader, Actor / You
Series: HOW I MET... [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759768
Comments: 2





	HOW I MET... On The Heath

There was a slight nip in the air and the night sky was beginning to lighten as I stepped out of the front door of the B&B. The first meeting with a potential new literary agent wasn’t until ten o’clock, and although it wasn’t even five yet, I had already been awake for an hour. I needed to clear my mind so a nice walk in the trees should help. Late spring and the leaves were that fresh bright green. I especially liked the copper beeches at this time of year as their leaves were still gold, amber and pink having not yet reached the full depth of red that they would achieve over the next few weeks. I set out at a brisk pace to ward off the chill. It would soon warm up once the sun was up properly.  
The houses in the neighbourhood were pretty, but I felt so much calmer once I entered the park and started to follow the path up the hill. I was soon out of breath and paused at the top to take in the view. As usual there were dog walkers and joggers around, and I knew it would be even busier within an hour or two. I took out my phone and took some photos. The early morning sunlight was beautiful.  
I took the path north towards the trees. That was my happy place. I could feel the smile spreading over my face as I gazed upwards at these majestic old trees with their canopies of fresh green leaves. I took some photos upwards with the leaves against the early morning sky. The sky was almost cloudless. Just a few wisps and fluffy puffs of white floating gently along. I continued north towards where I remembered there being some copper beeches. I should be able to get some great photos. I wished I had brought my camera on this trip now, but the purpose of the trip was four days of meetings with potential literary agents so that I could, if I was lucky, get my writing out into the wider world. Some agents specialised in screenplays and the film industry, some in novels and others in more general writing for short stories and magazines. The difficulty was I wrote all of these things. So, I had managed to book meetings with seven different agents to see if I needed one or more to represent me. I had considered representing myself and self-publishing, but this would then end up becoming a full-time job in itself when what I wanted to do was write. Also, there was the problem that I actually already had a full-time job, in corporate tedium, which was paying the bills until I actually sold some of my writing.  
I continued to wander and amble around under the trees, mostly looking up, taking pictures of anything that looked beautiful. Then I came across the grove of copper beeches and got excited. They looked spectacular. I stood under them talking shots upwards with details of the trunks and the leaves. Then I took a few steps back to try to get a wider shot. The light was playing on the leaves as they moved in the breeze. I switched to video and then slowly walked backwards to get a wider shot.  
The next thing I knew I was lying on the ground. Someone had crashed into me at speed. I looked across to see the runner sprawled out on the ground.  
“Are you ok? I am so sorry; I really wasn’t looking where I was going.” I called over.  
The runner rolled towards me and sat up.  
“My fault entirely.” He said.  
I had a sudden realisation. It was him. The actor I was such a huge fan of. Baseball cap and air pods and full black running gear.  
“I glanced down at my phone while I was running, and I just didn’t see you. Are you ok?” he continued.  
“I think so. I may have a few bruises. How about you? Are you ok?”  
He went to get up but winced and sat down again.  
“Oh god. You’re hurt.” I said, feeling horribly guilty.  
“I am sure I will be fine in a moment.” He said rubbing his ankle, but he winced again.  
I got up and brushed myself off then offered him my hand. “Lean on me. There’s a log over there you can sit up on. I can’t leave you sat on the floor in the middle of the path.”  
With my help he got up.  
“Don’t put any weight on it. Let’s get you to the log then I can take a look at that ankle. I’m no doctor but thanks to St John’s Ambulance I have some basic first aid skills. Let’s make sure there is nothing broken.”  
“I am sure I will be fine. You don’t need to trouble yourself.”  
“It’s no trouble, I promise. And I would rather not leave you to the mercy of the next person along with a camera phone and their social media. That would make for a great tabloid headline.”  
“You know who I am then?”  
I smiled. “Of course, I do. I saw you at the theatre last summer and I have seen most of your films.“ This wasn’t entirely true. I had actually seen him at the theatre eight times last summer and I owned all of his films, even the obscure early stuff, on Blu-ray, and don’t even get me started on the two hundred plus videos I had saved on YouTube. I knew more about this man that most people. He was talented, good looking, kind, generous and the inspiration for most of my writing. Oh, and I had the most shameful crush on him. But I was desperately trying to play it cool. It probably wasn’t working though because with his arm around my shoulder as I helped him to the log, I could smell his fresh sweat and it was doing something to me. I could feel my face flush.  
He sat on the log.  
“We need to get that trainer off. Can you do that? I don’t want to pull it off as it’s probably going to hurt.”  
He leant forward, carefully undid and removed his shoe. I could clearly see the pain in his face and was struck again with guilt.  
“I am so sorry; I really should have been looking where I was going but I was taking photos of the trees.”  
He looked up at the trees around us.  
“They are beautiful, aren’t they? But please don’t apologise any more. You were practically stood still, and I was running, but I had looked down at my phone and when I looked up you were right there, but I couldn’t stop. It was entirely my fault.”  
“Would you let me check your ankle?” I asked.  
He hesitated briefly, “I am sure it will be fine if I just rest here for a moment but if it would make you feel better.“ He moved his foot towards me.  
I knelt and gently felt above his ankle, down over the bones and tendons and along his foot.  
“Looks like no broken bones but I think you should get to A&E and get it checked. It’s swelling already though which suggests some soft tissue damage at least, so we need to keep your weight off it. How far is it back to home for you?” I was feigning innocence again as I actually knew where he lived. I had worked it out from photos he had posted on social media over the years. I was familiar with the neighbourhood and it didn’t take me long to work out.  
“Normally I would say a 15-minute walk, but I am not sure right now.”  
I went to pull my phone out of my pocket, then realised it wasn’t in my pocket. It had been in my hand when we had collided, and I actually had no idea where it was.  
“Oh shit, my phone.”  
“Your phone?” he asked.  
“It was in my hand when we collided and now, I have no idea where it is.” I looked around.  
“I can call it if that would help.”  
I gave him my number and boy did that feel weird. My crush now had my phone number.  
“It’s ringing.” He said, so we both went quiet and listened. I wandered slowly back to the point where we had crashed and then I could hear it. Ah ha, there it was. I bent and picked it up. It was still on video mode. I turned that off, wondering how much of our conversation it had recorded.  
“Thank you.” I said as I sat on the log next to him.  
I opened up the map and looked to see how close we were to the nearest road. It wasn’t very far.  
“I have an idea. I have my car with me this week. If I walk you to this spot here, you can wait while I go get my car. It will probably take me at least twenty minutes but that’s probably better than you hobbling all the way home with your arm around my shoulder as the papz would have a field day with that.”  
I checked my watch. A little after six thirty. So, by my calculations I should be back to collect him by seven.  
“Unless you have a better idea.”  
He shook his head. He was beginning to look more uncomfortable.  
“You need to get home and get some ice on that quickly so let’s get going.” I stood and offered him my hand.  
“I don’t want to put you out.”  
“My first meeting today isn’t until ten, so I have plenty of time. Come on.“ I boldly reached forward and took his arm to help him up and wrapped it over my shoulder. Looking at my phone I then navigated us along the shortest path to the spot I had identified where he could wait. There was a rail he could perch on or a lamppost he could lean on.  
“Ok. I will be as quick as I can. You have my number if you need anything. I have hands free in the car so call me if you need anything at all.”

I was back at the B&B in just under fifteen minutes. I ran in and grabbed my handbag, a bottle of water and some painkillers, together with my car keys and rushed straight back out. Still before seven o’clock but the traffic was already getting busy. I set the Sat Nav on my phone and set off.  
As I pulled up as close to where I had left him as possible, I couldn’t see him, so I parked and got out. I quickly reached the spot where I had left him and looked around. He was sat a little way back from the path under a tree. I hurried over and bent down next to him.  
“How are you doing?“ The grimace on his face said not so good.  
With very little help from me he managed to get himself up then we hobbled back to my car. He paused for a moment. I looked at his height and then the car.  
“Yes, I know. A mini. You are going to struggle to get into it, but I have moved the passenger seat all the way back so you can extend your leg.“ I opened the door and he lowered himself in. Once I was back in the driver’s seat, I grabbed the painkillers and water from my bag and handed them to him.  
“I know we’ll probably be back at your place in no time at all, but you need these now.”  
He took them without an argument then went to hand the remainder of the water back.  
“No, you drink it.” I said, “You are the one who has been running this morning and you need to stay hydrated.”  
He smiled gratefully and continued to drink.  
“I will head south towards Hampstead, but then you will need to give me directions.” He nodded. He hadn’t actually spoken since I picked him up. This definitely called for a trip to A&E.  
“Or do you want me to take you straight to A&E?” I asked.  
“No.” He said abruptly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I need to go home and make some calls.”  
“Let’s go then.” I said, pulling away.  
My calculations as to where he lived were spot on. As we pulled up to a big gate, he pulled his key from his pocket and pressed a button on a small key fob. The gate slowly swung open. He pointed out a space and once parked I rushed around to help him out of the car.  
I helped him to the door, expecting him to say thank you and goodbye at this point but he still held onto my shoulders.  
“Which way to the nearest seat?” I asked. “Left, or right?”  
He pushed the door closed behind us.  
“Left, please.”  
I helped him into a spacious but sparsely furnished living room where he collapsed onto the sofa with his eyes closed and breathing heavily. I was hoping the painkillers would kick in soon.  
“Is there anything else I can help with?” I asked. “I should probably get out of your hair now. I have already caused enough trouble.”  
He opened his eyes and pulled himself up. “You have not been any trouble at all. As I have said already, this is my own stupid fault. And you have been an angel getting me home. I really don’t know how I would have managed without you.”  
“You have your phone.” I said. “You could have called someone.”  
“Come and sit down.” He said, patting the sofa next to him. I sat, feeling more than a little awkward, like a party guest who had outstayed their welcome.  
He wrapped his arms around me and gave me a warm squishy hug that took me completely by surprise. I gasped.  
“Oh sorry. Did I squeeze too tight?” he relaxed his arms but didn’t let go.  
I took a moment to compose myself, “No, just took me by surprise.”  
“I just wanted to thank you properly. Could I ask one more favour?”  
“Yes, of course, anything.” I blushed because while his request may have been completely innocent my mind wasn’t. When I said anything, I really did mean anything.  
“There is a smoothie in the door of the fridge. My post run nutrition. I need to stick to my diet, or my trainer will kill me. He objects to me running so much when he’s trying to get me to bulk up for a role as he says I don’t eat enough to fuel both.“ He seemed a bit more relaxed. Maybe because he was at home. Maybe because the pain killers were beginning to work.  
“So where would I find the kitchen then?”  
“Other side of the hall.“ He still hadn’t let go of me. I wasn’t sure that long of a hug was necessary, but I wasn’t going to complain. I felt a warm glow inside me building every minute his arms were around me. His scent was just raw man, like it was one hundred percent pheromones. My imagination had been here a thousand times but nothing I could imagine compared to the real thing. His arms around me had set light to my soul.  
He let go almost reluctantly. I slowly got up and went to his fridge. It was quite a small kitchen, but it still had a small island in the middle with two bar stool seats, that to be frank was more of an obstruction than anything else. I guess that was one of the joys of London property, teeny weeny living space. It didn’t matter how many millions you had; property was so expensive that you were never going to get the space that a big country pile would provide. The kitchen was also quite old. I was imagining how I would remodel it as I delivered the smoothie. It all needed opening up.  
“Thank you.” He said.  
“What’s in that thing?”  
“A bunch of green stuff, banana, avocado, and protein powder.”  
“Looks awful.”  
“Taste’s pretty bad too. Want to try?“ He smiled, holding it out to me.  
“No, not really.” I wrinkled up my nose and he laughed. “I have some much nicer recipes. The greens have no place in a smoothie!”  
“Oh, please share.” He said enthusiastically. “This stuff is torture.”  
“I could make you one now if you have the ingredients and a decent blender.”  
“You know where the kitchen is.” He smiled. “The blender is on the counter next to the kettle. Feel free to raid the fridge and cupboards for anything you need. Protein powder is in the lower cupboard next to the fridge. If there is anything else you need, you know where to find me. I just need to make a few calls.”  
I headed to the kitchen.  
He called after me, “And help yourself to anything you want too.”  
I checked my watch and did some rough calculations. My meeting was at ten. I would need to get showered and changed and travel there for which I should probably allow at least an hour and a half. Ten minutes to get back to my B&B from here. So, I had about an hour before I needed to leave. I smiled. I couldn’t believe I was in his house. In his kitchen. This was all a bit surreal.  
Having found a whole host of fantastic ingredients in the cupboards, fridge, and freezer I made three different smoothies.  
“How are you doing?” came a voice from right behind me. I jumped a mile. He laughed. “Sorry, did I startle you?”  
He sat at the island and surveyed the choices in front of him.  
“Well no green is a good start.”  
“As I have used ingredients from your own kitchen, I am assuming no allergies but before you try them…” I started.  
“Nope, no allergies, I eat pretty much anything, even green gloop.“ He had already picked up the first glass and was drinking enthusiastically.  
“Wow, that’s good. What’s in it?”  
“Simple one. Chocolate protein powder and frozen cherries, together with my basic Greek yoghurt, banana, and milk base. This next one is banana and nuts. I usually just use pecans, but you didn’t have any so it’s a mix of almonds, cashews, and a few walnuts. I used your plain protein powder for that one.“ As I talked, he drank, and he was now onto the third one.  
“Ok, so this is my favourite. I am having this one again. It’s like liquid dessert. They all are but this one is the best.” He said eagerly.  
“Chocolate and peanut butter. That’s one of my favourites too but I don’t have it too often as it’s too high calorie.”  
He paused.  
“This has been great.” He said. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to. You have been so helpful. I can’t thank you enough. I really appreciate you taking your time to help me. Is there anything I can do for you in return?”  
I must have pulled a face of sorts.  
“I mean it. Anything. You haven’t made any demands of me and I appreciate that, but really, you can ask.”  
I took a deep breath as this would involve a huge confession and I didn’t want to upset him.  
“I am a writer.” I paused. He waited patiently.  
“I have written two screenplays, three novels and a handful of short stories so far, and I am in London this week because I am having meetings with prospective literary agents. But now I feel like I have to make a huge confession.“ I looked at my shoes as a fidgeted with my fingers, unable to look him in the eye.  
“A confession. I am intrigued.”  
“God, where do I start.“ I looked up and he was smiling at me.  
“What do you write about?” He asked.  
I took a deep breath. There really was no easy way to say this. “You.” I squeaked out.  
“Me? I don’t understand. A biography?”  
I shook my head. Still unable to speak it out loud.  
He took my hands. He could have reacted in so many ways. He could have joked or teased. He could have been really angry. But as he gently squeezed my hands, he softly said with an encouraging smile, “Well you have to tell me now.”  
Oh well, here goes nothing. I squashed down the anxiety and remembered some of the pitch I had prepared for my meetings.  
“I only took up writing recently. It was after seeing you in that play last summer. You have inspired me to write and it seems that now I can’t stop. I started with a screenplay. You had previously suggested that you might like to do a romantic comedy or drama. So that’s what I wrote, and the main character is written for you. In fact, all of my writing is based either directly or indirectly on you. Your fans would recognise this as I expect would you, but anyone not familiar with you or your work may not.“ I stopped and looked at him for a reaction. He looked a little stunned.  
“I am flattered. You really wrote everything for me?”  
“Yes. And before I attempt to publish anything or seek a wider audience, I would like your approval. It’s one of the conditions I have given all of the agents I am meeting. I don’t want any of this going public without your permission. Although saying that the short stories and the first novel are actually all on a fanfic site.“ I reached into my handbag and pulled out a large envelope, which I placed on the island in from of him.  
As he went to reach forward to take it, I added, “You may not feel as flattered when you read this. That’s not… shit, how do I say this… my writing is explicit. While this screenplay I would expect to be made as a fifteen and I would not expect you to do this if it was eighteen rated, the writing is definitely eighteen rated.“ I flushed at the thought of him reading it.  
He didn’t look completely shocked so while I was on a roll I continued. “I have a fundamental problem with the way Hollywood glorifies violence and it fills up even PG and twelve rated films, but good wholesome sex is never shown. And god forbid we should see an erect penis or penetration. And when they do include sex in films it is so often done in such a sordid way or has elements of violence. It’s rarely about love and relationships and the stuff that actually fills up most real people’s lives.“ It had all just come spewing out. All of my forthright opinions. The kind of stuff that gets the thanks but no thanks from agents.  
At that moment I was interrupted by the alarm on my watch. Eight o’clock. I really should go and get ready for my first meeting of the day. And now that I had completely humiliated myself, I should probably leave.  
“Ok.” He said. He seemed a little stunned.  
“Sorry,” I said, “You don’t have to read it. I will leave it with you. My contact details are in the envelope too. I need to go now as I have a meeting at ten.”  
“Yes, sure.“ He put his hand on the envelope on the island. I felt really embarrassed now. I didn’t think I would ever have to tell him to his face. Suddenly feeling really terrible I had to say something.  
“Please, if you think it’s awful, or you want me to rewrite it, then please tell me. I won’t publish anything without your permission. I have to go now. I’ll see myself out.”  
I grabbed my bag and jacket and rushed out of the house.

My first meeting did not go well. She reminded me too much of Dolores Umbridge with all the pink and kittens. The agent liked my work but then kept suggesting I should write trashy romances, without the sex or the other issues as she called them. What she was referring to as other issues I would have called plot. Then she went on to suggest that maybe they could get me a deal with some of the small romance fiction publishers. She wasn’t interested in my screenplays at all and my novels were far too long.  
After a horribly overpriced cardboard sandwich I headed straight to my second meeting only to find that the guy was double booked, and I got a bit annoyed and suggested that they could have called me to let me know. So now it was mid-afternoon and I was sat in Soho square commiserating with a chocolate muffin and a coke. I checked my phone which had been off most of the day because of the meetings. Two missed calls, one voicemail and a text message. All from a blocked number. I was about to ignore them all when I realised that the first missed call was at 6:23am. That was him. When he called my phone this morning because I thought I’d lost it. My hands were sweating. Text message first at 2:45pm.  
“Can we talk?”  
About twenty minutes later, the next missed call and voicemail.  
“Hi, I am hoping this is the right number. I would really like to talk to you. Can you call me back?”  
I saved the message and then just stared at my phone. I couldn’t call him back. I didn’t have his number and it was coming up as blocked on my phone. I was still in shock that he called me. Then I went into panic mode as I worried about whether he would be calling his lawyers right now to suppress all of my writing. I listened to the message again. He didn’t sound angry. I listened again. He mostly sounded tired.  
What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t call him but if he had asked me to call back then would he be waiting for me to call and think I was rude for not calling. I should never have given him the screenplay to read. What must he have thought of me?  
By now it was nearly four o’clock and I was pacing around Soho wondering what to do. I couldn’t call. Should I have waited for him to call again? What if he didn’t call again? I really didn’t want him to think I was ignoring him.  
My phone rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin. But it wasn’t him. Just the secretary for the agent I was seeing tomorrow at three confirming the appointment.  
Then it dawned on me. I knew where he lived. I would just have to go round. So, I headed for the tube and thirty minutes later I am stood outside the gates. There was an intercom thing on the gate post, so I pressed the button. A crackly voice answers.  
“Hi, it’s me.” I said, like of course he knows who I am, just some random woman he crashed into twelve hours ago. “You asked me to call you but didn’t leave your number.”  
A voice I didn’t recognise then suggested that I have the wrong address and cut off.  
Great. Feeling dejected I headed back to the B&B.

I threw myself on the single bed in the corner of my tiny room. I lay there staring at the ceiling wondering who that disembodied voice was and how I was ever going to speak to him again. I probably just lay there worrying for half an hour.  
My phone beeped. I checked it immediately. Text message.  
“Sorry.” Followed by a number.  
I closed my eyes for a moment to try to focus and contain my scrambled emotions.  
I messaged back. “Hi, how is the ankle?”  
Immediate response. I nearly melted.  
“Sore, stiff and now cold.”  
Then my phone beeped again. This time a picture of his leg up on the sofa, with a bag of frozen peas over his ankle.  
I needed to make sure he was really ok. “Did you go to A&E? What did they say?”  
“Mild strain, some bruising, told me to keep my weight off for at least two weeks. How did your meetings go?”  
Ah, how sweet, he remembered about my meetings. “Not good today but I have another couple tomorrow and more later in the week. I got your message earlier. You said you wanted to talk to me?“ I took a breath before I hit send. I had my suspicions that this was going to be about my screenplay, and I was dreading it.  
My phone rang. It was him. I answered even though I was terrified of what he might say.  
“Hello” I answered.  
“Hi,” I could almost hear him smiling, “We could chat on the phone, but I think we have a lot to talk about so why don’t you come over. I promise my friend will let you in this time. We were just about to order some food. Is Thai ok?”  
“Yes, sure, Thai is fine. What time?”  
“Could you come straight over?” he asked, “If you are not busy?” he added.  
Busy, nope not really. Just lying on the bed in my B&B staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Should probably freshen up though. “About half an hour?” I suggested.  
“Great!” He said with a genuine enthusiasm. “See you soon.“ He hung up.

Half an hour later, with fresh brushed teeth, tidied hair, and a few minor touch ups to the make-up, I buzzed the gate intercom again.  
The disembodied voice said “Codeword?”  
“I don’t have a codeword?“ There was a short pause.  
The disembodied voice shouted off, “You promised you would give her a codeword. You’re bloody useless. Have I taught you nothing?“ Another short pause and the gate buzzed, and I heard a click as the catch released so I pushed the gate and walked through, carefully closing the gate behind me.  
Before I could knock on the door it opened. The tall slim guy with mousy hair raised an eyebrow at me as he stepped back to let me in, then called back over his shoulder. “Give me a call tomorrow if you need anything.“ Then he turned to me as he left, “He’s in the garden. Go on through.” and pulled the door closed behind him.  
I went straight through to the garden to find him sat with his foot up on a second chair with a bag of peas over it.  
“Hello.” He said. “Sorry I couldn’t greet you at the door. I need another ten minutes with the ice before I can move. Did he go?“ He seemed a little annoyed.  
“What’s up?”  
“Nothing. Well, just him jumping to conclusions and giving me lectures I don’t need. He didn’t have to leave before dinner.”  
We chatted for a while about my meetings and his trip to A&E when he got to a point where he stopped and actually blushed.  
“I have read your screenplay, but I failed to read the letter first, which in hindsight, I really should have done.“ He sighed. “Because it does warn against reading it in public.”  
“You read it while you were waiting in A&E?” I smirked.  
“Yep. So, when the young female doctor came to check my ankle, she got a view she hadn’t bargained on. Poor lady blushed terribly. My running shorts really aren’t able to conceal much.” He laughed.  
“What I want to know…” he continued, “Is how you knew it was going to have that effect?”  
“Beta readers feedback. Mostly US college kids trying to earn some extra money. They have to fill in a review sheet and that was a comment I got back from one of the guys, so I felt it important to include a warning.“ At this point I paused. If he had read those sections, then he had got at least halfway through the script.  
“Ok, that’s enough ice. Let’s eat. He said he’d laid the table in the living room.”  
“Do you want me to put the peas back in the freezer? I’m sure you are going to need them again later.”  
“Thank you, yes.”  
After I put the peas in the freezer, I headed through to the living room to be greeted by Mr Totally Embarrassed obstructing the doorway.  
“I’m really sorry about this.” He said, “It wasn’t my idea.“ He stepped to one side. I smiled. The room was decorated in fairy lights and candles. Some soft classical music was playing in the background. The table had been laid for two with champagne in an ice bucket.  
I walked into the room towards the table then stopped. He almost walked straight into the back of me, stopping himself by putting his hands on my shoulders.  
“You have a hostess trolley.” I laughed. “I haven’t seen one of those for years.”  
“Ah, yes. It was my mother’s. She decided, as I would be entertaining, that I would need it. I really don’t entertain at all. It was in the back of the garage. I didn’t even know it still worked.”  
“My parent’s had one of those hotplates that goes in the middle of the table.”  
“I am so sorry about this. I just wanted to talk about the screenplay, but someone got completely the wrong idea.“ He momentarily scowled in the direction of the front door.  
We sat. He took the food from the hostess trolley and spread it out in front of us on the table. An absolute feast. For the next few minutes, we just chatted about the food and general stuff until he poured the champagne.  
“Are you sure you should be drinking? Did they give you pain killers at the hospital?”  
He smiled. “I think I can manage a glass or two. And I didn’t get any extra pain killers. It’s not that bad, honestly. I just need to be careful, for a while, and unfortunately that means no more running for a couple of weeks. I am going to get so fat.”  
I nearly spat my food out. “Fat! You? Seriously? You could gain twenty pounds, and no one would notice. I am sure you could do something else. How about swimming?“ As soon as I had said that the image of him from that TV series getting out of the pool popped into my head. Was it getting warm in here? Maybe it was all the candles. Hopefully, it wasn’t my face flushing bright pink.  
Changing the subject, I asked, “So, how far have you got through the screenplay?” As if that subject was going to make the conversation any easier.  
“I finished it. I was just reading the last sections when you buzzed earlier. It didn’t dawn on me that you might come back. I was expecting you to call. Then, too late, I realised I hadn’t actually given you my number. Anyway, your screenplay. I think it’s amazing.” He paused and looked at me as if to gauge my reaction.  
I nearly choked. He patted my back gently. I took a big sip of my champagne. “Really? You liked it.”  
“Scared the crap out of me as an actor. There is some seriously emotional stuff in there.”  
“That’s what you are really good at.” I interjected.  
“Really? You think so?”  
“Absolutely. I love watching your films with the sound off. Just watching your face and your body. You can convey more emotion in your eyes than most actors can with everything they have.”  
He seems a little embarrassed. Which was kind of cute and completely normal for him. I had seen this in interviews before. I was part way down my second glass of champagne and starting to relax now. The whole situation felt more like one of my stories than reality so that’s how I would play it.  
“Do you have any questions about the characters?” I asked.  
We continued to talk in depth about the screenplay for the longest time. We had finished the champagne and most of the food. I had put all the leftovers into one dish, but we were still sat up at the table when his watch bleeped.  
“Ah, time for more ice.” He said.  
“I’ll go get the peas for you. Why don’t you sit on the sofa?” I smiled, collected the dish of leftovers, and headed for the kitchen.  
When I returned, he was sat on the sofa. He patted the seat next to him. There were no other chairs near the sofa, so I sat next to him and handed him the peas.  
“May I?” he said, as he lifted his feet onto the sofa on the other side of me and laid the peas over his ankle. “I’m sorry I don’t have more chairs. This isn’t too awkward for you is it?”  
Now why would he think that? My major crush had just stretched his long muscular legs over my lap. I’d had four glasses of champagne and was feeling a little light headed and very happy as he had spent the whole of dinner telling me how fabulous my screenplay was. I seriously didn’t think the evening could get any better and then he put his legs in my lap.  
He leant sideways and reached under the sofa, pulling out the copy of the screenplay I had given him earlier and a pen that was clipped to the front of it. As he flicked through, I could see it was already covered in his scribbles.  
We had discussed all of the big things and the characters and their back stories but now it seemed he wanted to go through page by page. He really was thorough. I didn’t even want to look at my watch, but I also didn’t want to outstay my welcome. Although, at the moment, it looked like leaving wasn’t an option as I was pinned to the sofa by his legs and I wasn’t about to complain about that.  
We carried on for ages. He did lean forward briefly to take the peas off his ankle and drop them on the floor, but he didn’t put his legs down. I had found myself resting my arms on his legs as, well, to be honest, there really wasn’t much else I could do with them. This was all very cosy and not quite the professional script review meetings I had previous imagined, around a table in some corporate office.  
I yawned. I couldn’t stop myself. I had no idea how late it was. He looked at his watch.  
“Oh, I am so sorry. It’s gone one o’clock. You must be exhausted.”  
I really didn’t want this time with him to end. It had been the most amazing evening. But I couldn’t lie. He was right. I was exhausted.  
“Yes, I should probably be going.”  
He swung his legs around and stood, then turned to offer me his hand. I took it and got to my feet, trying not to appear as tired as I really was.  
“Let me walk you home.” He said.  
“Don’t be ridiculous. Firstly, there is no way I am letting you walk on that ankle. And secondly, I can manage perfectly ok on my own.“ He didn’t argue. I think he realised that would have been pointless. But I appreciated the gesture.  
He walked me to the front door then turned to me. Without any warning he pulled me in for a hug. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.” He said softly over the top of my head. He released me and stepped to open the door but before he did, he asked, “Would you be able to come over tomorrow? I would really like to continue working through the script.”  
My heart leapt. I know in theory it was work and not a date as such, but he had just invited me back to his house again.  
“I have a couple of meetings during the day, but I should be all done by maybe five or six-ish.”  
“Would you like to come over for dinner? I will cook for you this time. Would seven o’clock be ok?”

Seven o’clock prompt I arrived at the gate. He answered as soon as I buzzed. He must have been standing right next to the intercom. He greeted me at the door with a smile and a hug. That was a good start but also lit that internal fire that I was trying desperately to keep under control. I needed to be able to at least appear professional, even if I was melting into a puddle on the inside with every touch. He was such a tactile person that I was both in agony and ecstasy. I followed him into the kitchen where he was just finishing off dinner. As he was serving, I had to remind him that I needed less than half the calories than he did, so my portion needed to be much smaller. He carefully checked back with me that my portion was right before he insisted on carrying both plates through to the table. No candles tonight but he had turned on the fairy lights again. I wondered if that was just because he thought they looked good, or whether he remembered that I’d said I liked them. He wasn’t limping as much I was glad to see but I was really hoping he might still need to elevate his ankle after dinner if that meant him putting his legs over my lap again. I needed to get such thoughts out of my head. It was not helping me remain professional.  
After dinner we returned to the sofa and after much apologising from him and reassurance from me, he put his legs over my lap while we continued to work through the screenplay. This evening could get interesting. We were heading towards the passionate love scenes in the screenplay.  
He began to shift in his seat.  
“My apologies but my body seems to be anticipating what is to come.”  
I raised my eyebrows.  
“Oh, god, sorry, no pun intended.” I couldn’t stop myself from smirking which set him off into a full laugh.  
Once the crude jokes and laughing had subsided I had to ask, “Are you really ok to continue?”  
“Yes, please. Please let me know if this is awkward for you at all and we can stop.”  
So, we continued. The first two sex scenes took the most reviewing, so we were only half way through the second when he rested his hand on mine.  
“Please stop.” He said, “I can’t handle that.“ I suddenly realised that while we had been talking, I had been gently stroking his thigh.  
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I was mortified. “So much for being professional. That was completely inappropriate. I’m sorry if I upset you.”  
He didn’t release my hand. “I’m not upset. I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Quite the opposite, which is a problem because now I have lost my train of thought.“ He paused. “It’s getting late. Maybe we should call it a night. But there is still so much I would like to go through.”  
My brain was now completely scrambled. Not only had I embarrassed myself by stroking his leg, but he’d said he liked it, in a roundabout sort of way. So then my already over stimulated mind went to all sorts of places. I pulled my hand back. He lifted his legs down.  
“Would you come again tomorrow? I promise I will have better control of myself.” He was looking at the floor, not me.  
Like it was all his fault. I mean the way I was behaving I might as well have turned up with my Top Gun t-shirt that said, “Take me to bed or lose me forever.“ That’s how not subtle I was being.  
“My first meeting tomorrow is at eleven.”  
“Breakfast? Maybe if we sit in the kitchen it would be easier. Early start?”  
“Not too early. How about eight o’clock?”  
This was getting really awkward. We were both fidgeting like a pair of teenagers just caught by a parent.  
“Yes. That would be fine. That’s great.” He sounded relieved.   
I stood up to go. “I will see you tomorrow morning then.”  
He got up and walked me to the door again. He hugged me but only briefly as there was still something uncomfortable between us. My heart sank. Had I just ruined everything by stroking his leg. No. He had asked me to come back tomorrow. Breakfast and a professional discussion and review of the screenplay.  
The following morning, I was up by six, showered and dressed by seven. What to do for the next hour? My phone pinged.  
Text message from him. “I’ve been up for a while and getting hungry. Come over whenever you are ready.”  
I messaged back. “About 20 mins?“ I could have been there in five, but I didn’t want to appear quite so desperately keen.  
“Great 😊”  
“Omelette ok?” he said by way of a greeting as he opened the door and led my through to the kitchen.   
“Lovely, as long as there is no runny egg. I am a bit fussy with my eggs.“ I looked around and he had already chopped onions, mushrooms, peppers and ham, and there was a whole jug full of beaten egg next to the pan. I smiled as I wondered just how long he’d had all of this prepped for.  
“You will need to come and supervise then.”  
“Do you flip your omelettes or fold?” I asked.  
“Neither. I pop it under the grill to finish off to make sure the top is cooked.”  
“Perfect!” I smiled.  
I sat at the kitchen island with the glass of juice provided while he busied himself cooking. We even managed to finish off the second sex scene without any trouble at all before he served the omelette. Slow cooked to perfection. He was a really good cook on top of all his other stellar qualities.  
I volunteered to wash up. To begin with he carried on reading to himself, then he stopped abruptly and grabbed a tea towel. He dried as I washed, putting things away as he went along. He brushed behind me a couple of times as he moved around the kitchen.  
I paused, shrugging my shoulders, and gently rolling my head from side to side.  
“Are you ok?” his soft voice asked from what felt like just inches behind me.  
“Just a little stiff and achy. I didn’t sleep well last night and woke up far too early.”  
“May I?” he asked as he laid his hands on my shoulders.  
“Uh huh, yes.” I murmured, hardly able to speak. His strong hands rubbed my shoulders, neck, and upper back filling me with a warm glow inside. His hands weren’t just therapeutic, they felt sensual, enticing, and encouraging the passion inside me. My crush was massaging my shoulders.  
“Your hair smells wonderful.“ Said his warm voice, so close to my ear that I could feel his breath. I wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. I wasn’t sure that I was actually capable of speech at all with what his hands were doing to me.  
He gently moved my hair away and oh so softly kissed my neck. I gasped in surprise.  
“Oh god.” He stuttered. “Oh god I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have…” He quickly left the room. I didn’t hear him on the stairs, so I assumed he had gone into the living room.  
I finished washing. There wasn’t much left to do. Then I decided to go and find him. Those few minutes allowed me to regain some kind of control because while part of me really wanted him to carry on kissing my neck, we also needed to remain professional if we were going to get through this screenplay.  
I got to the living room to find him pacing and the first thing I thought about was his poor ankle.  
“What do you think you are doing? Sit down right now.” I demanded, pointing at the sofa.  
“I am so so sorry. That was completely out of order. The next scene got me all fired up. I should never have presumed. I wasn’t thinking at all. I am so sorry.“ He sat on the sofa.  
“You misunderstand me. When I asked what you thought you were doing, I was referring to you pacing up and down, and damaging your poor ankle.“ He looked up at me confused.  
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” I smiled.  
“The next scene?” I continued, “You mean the kitchen scene? The back up against the fridge scene? Yes, I can imagine.”  
“I had to stop at the kitchen island incident. I thought doing something like drying up would help clear my head but to touch you, and your scent…” He paused, “Sorry again. I am not sure breakfast was actually such a good idea. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman for breakfast.”  
I sniggered.  
“Oh god.” He hung his head in embarrassment and tried to laugh. “Oh god that is so not what I meant.”  
“Freudian slip?”  
“I mean, well, the last woman to have breakfast here, she was my girlfriend at the time,”  
“And my guess is that normally when you share breakfast with a woman, it’s because you have also been sharing your bed with her?”  
He buried his face in his hands. I reached forward and took his hands from his face. “Maybe in the circumstances we should have thought a bit more carefully about the next scenes before deciding to eat in the kitchen. and seeing as I know this screenplay word for word, maybe I should have thought about this a bit more carefully.”  
“I am such a cliché. Man reads about sex. Man loses all self-control. It’s a lousy excuse. I’m sorry.”  
“I think that’s enough apologies. Do you think you can continue?”  
“Are you sure that’s ok?”  
“Are you ready for this? This is the most intense scene. They do lighten up after this one.”  
“Yes.” He went to get up, but I pushed him back down.  
“Where do you think you are going?” I demanded.  
“To get the script from the kitchen.”  
“You can sit right there and rest your ankle. I’ll get it.”  
We continued to work through the script although he did still seem a little tense. My watch buzzed.  
“I need to go now for my meeting.”  
“I am glad we managed to finish the scene first.“ He paused. “Would you come again this evening? For dinner?”  
“My last meeting probably won’t finish until seven.”  
“Could you come straight here after the meeting? I understand if you don’t want to. You said you didn’t sleep well. You probably just want to go home and sleep.”  
I smiled. “I still need to eat. And I wouldn’t call that B&B home. I’ll come straight here.”  
He went to get up to see me out.  
“No, you stay here and rest that ankle.” I said as I leaned in to give him a hug, pulling his head into my chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed. We held each other for a few moments longer than necessary to say goodbye. I was resisting my desire to stroke his hair and kiss his forehead. Eventually I let go.  
“I will see myself out. I will text you later when I am on my way.”  
As I pulled the door closed behind me, I was trembling. The memory of his hands, his kiss. Was this just the impact of reading graphic sex scenes? Was I reading too much into this? Because that had felt like something else. I had just over an hour to compose myself before my first meeting out of four today.  
As I stepped away from the door my phone pinged.  
“Good luck for your meetings today.“ I hadn’t even been out of the house five minutes and he was texting me.  
The day was brutal. Back to back meetings with just enough time to travel between them. What made it better was each time I turned on my phone there was another couple of text messages, wishing me luck, encouraging me, and telling me to believe in myself. But that wasn’t enough. Each agent I met was only interested in either novels or screenplays but not both. They had limited genres and fixed ideas on what I should be writing in order to make my work more commercial. It was so frustrating that the two agencies in town that would have suited me best, who were far more open to different ideas, neither of them would give me any time. And not for want of trying.  
It was just before seven when I texted to say I was about to get on the tube and would be there in about thirty minutes. He texted back one word. “Pizza?“ Just what I needed. Lots of consolation carbs. I confirmed eagerly, then headed down the escalators.  
He greeted me enthusiastically at the door. Like a puppy who had been alone all day. He fussed around me, making me sit while he got me a glass of wine. Two large pizzas appear out of the oven.  
“I didn’t know what you liked so I got two different ones. I hope these are ok?”  
“They are great. Thank you.”  
He asked about my meetings and let me rant about how narrow minded and awful some of these agents were, reassuring and consoling with his gentle responses.  
“I think we should take a break from the script tonight.” He said.  
I looked up from my slice of pizza. “We have already covered the most intense scenes. The review should be more straight forward from here.”  
“That’s not what I mean. You’re exhausted. You’ve been in meetings all day and it’s unfair of me to make you work in the evening too. We can just relax and chat. And then I think you need an early night. Do you have more meetings tomorrow?”  
“Just the one. At ten. Then I’ll be off home.”  
“Home? But you haven’t found an agent yet? Who are you seeing tomorrow?”  
After I had given him the name, I then listed all the other agents I had seen and the two that I wanted to see but couldn’t get a foot in the door.  
“Maybe I can help with that.” He smiled.  
“Really?”  
“Of course. You are a great writer and I’m really looking forward to working with you, so I need to make sure you have the best agent. I will make some calls tomorrow.“ He fell silent. He looked like he was thinking hard about something. So, I carried on eating pizza until I’d had at least two slices more than I needed and washed it down with the remainder of my second glass of wine.  
He refilled our glasses then took my hand and led me to the sofa.  
“Would it be ok if I put my feet up?” He asked.  
“Yes, of course.” I smiled. I would get to have his legs in my lap for one last time. It had hit me as I had finished my last slice of pizza. If I went home, then I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore. No more dinners together. The thought of leaving filled me with sadness. I didn’t want this to end. I was lost in thought wondering if I could get a few more nights in the B&B and maybe arrange another couple of meetings.  
“After your meeting tomorrow,” he said, finally speaking after what felt like forever being sat wallowing in my sad thoughts, “Would you come for lunch? I will make some calls in the morning. See what I can arrange.”  
“I have to check out of my B&B tomorrow. Could I ask a favour?”  
“Yes, sure, anything.”  
“Could I park my car here while I am at my meeting? It’ll have my suitcase and laptop in. I don’t really want to leave my laptop in the car when my car is parked in the street.”  
“Of course, in fact, why don’t you bring you bags in the house if you prefer. That would be much safer.”  
“Yes, thank you, that would be great. I will probably drop the car off at about eight thirty if that’s ok?”  
“That’s fine.”  
Then we fell into an awkward silence. Was it that without the script we actually didn’t have anything to say?  
“Sorry. I am being rude.” He said. “I was thinking.“ He smiled.  
He asked me about my home, and family and seemed happy to talk about his family and friends too. We relaxed into the conversation and talked about places we had travelled to and where we would like to go.  
It was at this point that I realised he had put his hand behind my shoulders and was gently stroking my back and neck. When I looked down, I realised that I was holding his thighs with my arms, almost hugging them to me. It was like an out of body experience. This couldn’t be happening to me. My crush, the world-renowned A-list actor, was snuggling with me on his sofa. And none of this would have happened if I had been paying attention instead of taking pictures of trees.  
“How’s your ankle?” I interjected.  
“Much better. Hopefully, I can start working with the physio next week to build up to working out properly again. My trainer was not happy. I told you he doesn’t like me running. Well, he really doesn’t like it now.” He laughed.  
“I am so sorry. If I hadn’t been wandering aimlessly, you wouldn’t have injured your ankle.”  
“Don’t apologise please. If you hadn’t, if I had been paying attention, I would have run straight past and we wouldn’t have met. What were you doing? Wandering backwards looking up at the sky?”  
“Taking photos of the trees.”  
“Could I see?”  
“Let me get my phone.” I said, reluctantly releasing his legs.  
I returned and sat next to him. I scrolled through a couple of the pictures. He leaned in really close.  
“Wow, they are beautiful. I guess I should spend more time looking up. Could you share them with me?”  
“I spend a lot of time looking up. Typical short person problem.” I laughed.  
“What’s that?”  
“Ah, that’s the video I was taking as we collided. I haven’t actually watched it yet.”  
I pressed play. It started with a gently pan back through the trees with the light playing through the leaves and the clouds rolling by above them, then there was a blur as my phone probably flew through the air. It must have landed face down as the video continues to record the trees and sky above while in the background you could just hear us both apologising for the collision.  
He went very quiet. Then asked, “Could I have a copy of the video?”  
“Why would you want that? It’s awful. It’s mostly a blur and didn’t really come out how I intended at all. I might be able to edit something decent out of it.”  
“No, don’t edit it. Just as it is.“ I looked at him, confused.  
“It’s how we met.” He said softly. “I would like to keep this as a memory of that moment.“ He reached his arms around me and hugged me tight into his chest. I ran my hand slowly round his waist to his back and hugged him, pressing my face into his soft jumper. He smelt delicious. His hand stroked my neck under my hair. I felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed deeply. I felt warm and comfortable and so safe in his arms. Protected from the whole world. Nothing else mattered at all. I closed my eyes; totally relaxed in his embrace.  
“Are you dozing off there?” He whispered. I could have. I really could. At that moment, the idea of sleeping in his arms was bliss. “Let’s get you home. I’ll walk you back.”  
“No, you won’t.“ I said, lifting my head. “Not with that ankle. You still need to rest it.”  
“I also need to use it a little.”  
“Then you can walk me to the gate but no further.”  
He smiled and agreed.  
At the gate, he gave me a brief hug. “I’ll see you for lunch tomorrow then?”  
“Yes. But before that, I am going to drop my car and my stuff off at eight thirty.”  
“Yes, of course. Let me know when you are on your way and I will keep an eye out for you.”  
He gave me another hug. “See you tomorrow.”  
“Yes.” I smiled. “See you tomorrow.”  
As I walked away, I glanced back to see that he hadn’t clicked the gate shut. He was watching me walk up the road. I smiled. He waved awkwardly. Was he embarrassed at being caught watching me? He pushed the gate shut and I carried on back to my little B&B. My last night in London and what an adventure this trip had been. I didn’t want this to be over. I didn’t want to have to leave him behind. I couldn’t imagine him travelling nearly two hours out of town to come and see me. I didn’t even care about the screenplay anymore. It wasn’t about that. It was about spending time with him. We had lunch tomorrow but then what?

The morning went to plan. I dropped off my stuff and felt so much better for my laptop being in his house than in the car. As a writer that thing was my life and even though all the writing was backed up in the cloud, I was just really attached to it. I felt like I could trust him with anything.  
The meeting was yet another no go. The agent suggested that my sort of work wasn’t really what they were looking for but if I could just write some more commercial stuff then maybe they would be interested in future. Downhearted I texted him to say I was on my way, then headed for the tube.  
When I arrived, he was bouncing around like Tigger on speed.  
“What’s got into you? And for god’s sake sit down before you hurt your ankle.“ I shoved him in the direction of the kitchen and made him sit at the island.  
“My agent is going to speak to those two agents you wanted to meet with. Could you email me some of your work to send on? He thinks he can get you a meeting based on my recommendation.”  
“Your recommendation? You are going to recommend me?”  
“Yes, of course I am.“ He gave me a look like I was being really stupid, then smiled.  
I went into the hall and grabbed my laptop. A few minutes later I had sent him an email with links to my secure cloud storage.  
“When you attempt to login it will send me an email which I then have to verify to give you access. If that works, then forward it on to your agent with the same instructions. He can then forward it on, but I will need to know the people’s names and email addresses before I verify.”  
He picked up his phone and clicked the link in the email. I got the server request and approved it.  
“I’m in. Wow. There is a lot of stuff in here. Can I read it too?”  
“If you want to. There is another screenplay in there too if you are interested.”  
His phone bleeped. He checked and smiled.  
“You are about to get another request from this email address.“ He showed me his phone. Sure enough, a couple of seconds later a request from his agent. I approved it then shut my laptop and hung onto the edge of the kitchen island while I took a couple of deep breaths.  
I stood up straight and looked at him. He was smiling like a Cheshire cat, grin spreading across his face from ear to ear.  
With him sitting on the stool he was down at my level instead of towering above me, so I took advantage of the opportunity and hugged him.  
“Thank you so much for this.“ I kissed him on his cheek. I pulled back slowly to look him in the eyes. His eyes were pleading, like a puppy seeking attention, I couldn’t resist. I gently kissed him. He met my kiss and returned it. As I withdrew to look at him again, he smiled.  
“I like the way you say thank you.”  
I kissed him on the cheek again. “That… that was thank you.”  
I kissed him on the lips again with a little more passion. “That... that was just because I wanted to kiss you.”  
He grinned and leant in to kiss me. His lips were soft yet firm, caressing my mouth, his tongue gently exploring and teasing mine. I could feel a fire. Not just mine, but his too.  
“And that,” he said, “That was just because I have been wanting to kiss you since you helped me to your car. Before I had even read a word of your screenplay. And I swear I only reacted to those scenes so strongly because I knew that you had written them, and I couldn’t get you out of my head. And now I’m going to kiss you again.”  
“Please do.” I smiled.  
As we kissed, he turned himself on the stool to face me, then wrapped his arms tightly around me and pulled me in towards him, between his legs, then wrapped them around me too. I wrapped my arms tightly around his back, letting my hands explore and caress him. In the depths of our passionate embrace his phone rang. I broke away.  
“You should probably get that.“ I handed him his phone.  
He nodded and answered. After listening for a while, he said, “Tomorrow, both of them, one morning and one afternoon.” He looked at me and I nodded. “But they haven’t read anything yet.“ There’s a long pause as he listens “Ok. Can you send me their email addresses? … Great. Thanks a lot mate. I really appreciate this.”  
“Well,” he said, turning to me, “It looks like you have two meetings tomorrow.”  
“I had better call the B&B and see if I can stay another night or two.”  
“Stay here. I mean, I have two spare rooms. All of your stuff is already here.”  
Spare room wasn’t quite what I was thinking but I needed to focus, which was ridiculously difficult with him still having his legs wrapped around me. These could be two of the most important meetings of my life, so I needed a good night’s sleep.  
“If you’re sure?” I said in a very politely British way when what I really wanted to do was scream with excitement.  
He kissed me again. There was no escape. But then who would want to escape? His lips kissed mine then set off to explore my face and neck and were heading towards my collar bone when my phone rang. He broke away.  
“I think you should probably answer that.“ He grinned.  
I grabbed my phone and answered.  
The call came as a complete shock. I mostly just nodded and said ‘Yes, ok’ a few times as an occasional confirmation that I understood although I wasn’t sure that I did. Even a minute after I had hung up and put the phone on the counter, I was still stood there numb.  
He had has hands on my arms. I was aware he was talking. Eventually I heard him say, “Are you ok? Talk to me. What’s wrong?“ He had got up and was manoeuvring me around to sit on the stool.  
“It’s Mum.” I said quietly. He waited patiently for me to speak, gently rubbing my arms with his hands. “She’s had a bad fall. She’s in hospital. Head injury. Probably fractures. I have to go.”  
I sat for a moment. Trying to take it all in.  
“You are in no fit state to drive. You’re in shock. Let me drive you.”  
“No, I’ll be ok. I have to go. I have to go now.”  
He hugged me tight.  
“Before you go you need to eat. You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”  
“I didn’t have breakfast.” I confessed weakly.  
“Sit. I will make you a sandwich and a drink. You can be on your way in no time. I will put your things in your car while you eat. I’m not letting you go til you’ve eaten something and til you’ve calmed down. You really are in no fit state to drive.”  
I sat. I ate. He loaded my car and fussed over me. He took my phone and put the hospitals details into the sat nav. He packed me a second lunch in a box and put it in my handbag.  
“Hospital food it awful. You’ll need that.“ I nodded. I was feeling a little more coherent having eaten. I used the loo then headed out to the car. He followed me out.  
“Please drive safely. Text me when you get there. I need to know you’re ok.” He said.  
I took his hand and tugged him off the doorstep, then stepped up onto the step myself. I stroked his face, pulled it into mine and I kissed him, with all of my heart. Whatever else had taken over my head, my heart was already aching at the thought of not being with him.  
He squeezed me tight.  
“The appointments?” I suddenly realised there was no way I was going to make them.  
“Don’t worry. I will get them postponed. If they were keen enough to see you at less than a day’s notice, then they won’t mind waiting either.”  
He hugged me and stroked my hair.  
“Call me if you can.” He said.  
I gave him one last kiss and got in the car. How could the fates be so cruel? How could I have found the man of my dreams and have him actually want to be with me and then be torn away from him?  
I put some music on to drown out my thoughts. It took me the best part of an hour to get out of London and onto the motorway and then another hour to the hospital. As I walked from the car park, I texted him to say I had arrived safely. My phone pinged immediately.  
“Glad you are safe. Take care of your Mum but make sure you also take care of yourself. Missing you already. Call me when you can.”  
My heart filled up and so did my eyes. I paused outside the main entrance and composed myself.

It was gone eleven when I finally got home from the hospital. I did text him to say I was home and going to bed. The text back said “Goodnight darling xxx“ I smiled at the thought of his kisses then went straight to bed, very grateful for the food he had packed for me.

My routine for the next week was hell. I was up before six to make it to the hospital for seven, to make sure I was there for the doctors rounds at eight and to make sure Mum was eating. I stayed all day. The only food available was junk food from the machines and the awful canteen style restaurant. I don’t remember even school dinners being that bad. I stayed until Mum went to sleep. Sometimes as late as eleven. Then if I was lucky, I would get home before midnight. I managed to text during the day sometimes. I even managed a couple of calls to him and it was so good to hear his voice but then it also reminded me of how much I missed him.  
After eight days, Mum was doing much better. They were talking about her being able to leave the hospital soon. I wasn’t sure if that was going to be better or worse for me. Mum lived nearly forty minutes away. Twice as far as the hospital. Then that would also mean me being her carer and I really didn’t have the patience for that and she deserved better. Her dementia meant she already had daily care, but they obviously hadn’t been doing a great job otherwise how would she have fallen so badly. It turned out she had been trying to change a lightbulb on her own and had fallen off the chair. Head injury, broken hip, and a broken wrist plus a lot of bruises but it could have been so much worse. I started to look into care homes. My sister would be flying in from Australia tomorrow so maybe then I could get some proper rest. But she was only staying for two weeks.  
Mum fell asleep, with the help of some stronger medication, just after nine, so I was actually home before ten for the first time in ages. I called him as soon as I got in.  
“It’s so wonderful to hear your voice.” He said.  
“Mum’s doing much better now but I need to find her a care home.”  
“Are you looking after yourself? I am worried about you. Are you eating properly?”  
“Not really but microwave meals and sandwiches will have to do for now. My sister arrives tomorrow. She said she’d be at the hospital by about eleven. It will probably take the whole day to catch up.”  
“Why don’t you get yourself ready for bed while we chat?”  
“Because I can’t talk and clean my teeth at the same time, silly!” I laughed for what felt like the first time in ages.  
“Then I will read to you while you clean your teeth. What would you like me to read?”  
“You are expecting me to think? I can barely string a sentence together I’m so tired. You choose something. I’m going to put you on speaker.”  
He read to me and then we chatted some more.  
“It’s time you went to sleep now. Please try to leave the hospital early enough to get some proper dinner tomorrow. Don’t make me come down there!” He joked. That would be nice though. If he came to see me. But I couldn’t imagine it happening. As soon as the physio had checked his ankle over and given his trainer some dos and don’ts he was back into a full, if slightly adjusted, training programme. He had calls with producers and directors and a script to learn. He didn’t need distractions like me.  
“Goodnight darling.” I said.  
“Goodnight. I miss you.” He said, and we hung up.

The next day, my sister arriving was a welcome relief. We didn’t always get on, but she was a qualified geriatric nurse so knew exactly what to do and did her usual and came in and took charge. You would think she was the older sister. She could be so bossy but right now that’s what the situation needed. By mid-afternoon we had agreed on a suitable care home and she had agreed to inspect it the following morning. Then she told me I was to take a three-day complete break as I needed to rest. I tried to argue that I could still visit in the morning, or in the afternoon but she was insistent, and I knew better than to argue, or was it just that I was too tired to argue. I texted him to tell him I was taking a break and that she was sending me home at five so I could have a proper dinner. She was disgusted with my junk food diet and made me promise to go shopping on the way home to get some real food. As I was driving home from the supermarket, he called me, so I answered with the handsfree (which always felt oddly like shouting at an invisible person in the passenger seat.)  
“Are you home yet?” he asked.  
“Not quite, about ten minutes away. I’ve just been to the supermarket and bought some proper food. My sister made me promise. There’s fruit and vegetables and everything and not a microwave meal in sight.”  
“What does your cottage look like again? Describe it to me.”  
“Why do you want to know that?”  
“Humour me. Maybe I just like to hear you talk.”  
I chuckled. How many times had I said that to him, for him to now turn it round on me?  
“It’s the right-hand half of a pair of semis. Painted white with black beams and a rough stone tile roof and a wonky chimney that I really must get fixed. There are stone steps and a crazy paving path leading up to the front door. The rose above the door is just starting to bud up and I think the flowers will start to come out next month.”  
“Sounds wonderful. So where do you normally park?”  
“Somewhere on the street. Not usually directly in front of the house but maybe on the opposite side of the street a few doors down. I am just parking so I’ll say goodbye for now and maybe call you back shortly once I’ve got the shopping packed away.”  
“Yes sure,” he said, “We can talk in a bit. Miss you.“ Then he hung up.  
I turned off the engine and unloaded the shopping. Three bags and my handbag. I could manage that in one trip. I lugged the heavy bags across the road, watching my footsteps on the uneven steps and path that led to my front door.  
“Hello.” Said a familiar voice.  
I looked up in disbelief and my knees buckled under me. He stepped forward and caught me, as the shopping spilled on the ground.  
“I said I missed you. I couldn’t wait any longer.” He hugged me tightly. I didn’t realise I was crying until I found that the patch of jumper my face was buried into was getting soggy.  
“Let’s get you and your shopping inside.”  
I picked up my handbag and pulled out the keys to open the door, but my hands were shaking.  
“Allow me.” He said, gently taking the key from me, he opened the door and steered me inside. He sat me on the sofa and kissed my head, before disappearing back outside to gather up the fallen shopping. I sat, still not believing. He was here, at my house. What about his work? His training schedule? A glass of wine appeared in front of me.  
“I didn’t buy any wine?” I was confused.  
“I brought it with me. To be honest I also brought enough food for feed us both for a couple of days. And I hope you don’t think I was being presumptuous, but I was hoping to stay here rather than a hotel.”  
“But what about your work? Your training?”  
“You said you were taking three days off, so I have too. You kissed me and left, and I have missed you every moment since. I want to be with you.”  
“I missed you too.” I said quietly. I felt so tired and emotional.  
“I’m going to cook you a proper dinner and then I am going to hold you in my arms and kiss you for the rest of the evening to make up for the last nine days of being without you.”  
Somehow in the next hour he managed to rustle up a full roast dinner. I did manage to make it off the sofa and into the kitchen to assist when I heard him curse for the third time.  
“I’m sorry but tall people and seventeenth century cottages don’t work well together.” I said as he rubbed his forehead. “It’s only the lounge and the kitchen that are this low. The rest of the house will be ok for you. You are going to struggle with the stairs as they are narrow in every respect. Did you bring a bag with you? I am assuming that if you plan to stay for three days that you packed a change of clothes.”  
“Yes, it’s in my car. I’ll pop out and get it later.”  
We sat and ate at my tiny kitchen table, catching up on my day with my sister and how he’d managed to persuade some very powerful people that he was taking a couple of days off.  
He remembered to duck as we went through into the lounge and we sat on my tiny sofa.  
“How are you doing there Gulliver?” I joked, feeling much better for having had a proper meal and a couple of glasses of wine.  
“Everything is so small.” He laughed.  
“Only in relation to you because you are a giant. It’s all a perfectly normal size for me.”  
He pulled me in towards him and kissed me. He started so softly, so gently that it felt like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. It was bliss. The tenderness of his touch as he caressed my face and neck felt like the warm summer sun. Pushing my hair back, he kissed my neck and across my collar bones. Then he pulled me into his chest and with his gentle fingers he caressed my neck and back, his fingers disappearing inside the neckline of my t-shirt as far down my back as the material would allow.

I woke the next morning, fully clothed except my shoes, on my own bed with him lying behind me, cradling my body in his, with his arm wrapped over the top of me protectively. I could feel he was still sleeping by his slow rhythmic breath warm on the back of my neck. I reached an arm behind me. He was still fully dressed too. I checked my watch. It was eight thirty. I had told my sister I would be at the hospital by eight. I reluctantly managed to get myself out from under his arm. I tiptoed downstairs in search of my phone. On charge on the kitchen table, next to his phone. I unplugged it then texted my sister to let her know I had overslept, and I would be there by nine thirty. She sent a message back saying not to worry as her visit to the care home was not a fixed time. She could go anytime that morning. I poured myself a juice then put the kettle on. The least I could do for that wonderful man in my bed was take him a coffee.  
I needed a shower and clean clothes, so I headed for the laundry mountain in the spare room. For once I was glad of it. As I was sure, being such a gentleman, if the spare bed hadn’t been covered in several weeks’ worth of ironing then that’s where he would have slept. It was so reassuring to wake up with his arm around me.  
I took the clean clothes downstairs to the bathroom and made his coffee which I left on the bedside table while I went for a shower. I came out of the shower to find him sat on the sofa with the coffee.  
“How do you feel this morning?”  
“Much better.” I sat next to him and gave him a little kiss on the cheek.  
“Nope. That won’t do at all.” He said with a smirk, placing his coffee on the floor, he pulled me in and kissed me properly. I mean toe curling, heart melting, pant wetting properly. I really didn’t want to go to the hospital now. But I needed to leave in the next ten minutes to make it by nine thirty. Although with kisses like that there was a great danger that I wouldn’t be able to leave at all.  
“I have to go soon. I have to be at the hospital while my sister does an inspection visit of the care home.“ He kissed me some more. Well I say he kissed me. I mean we kissed, it’s just he kept starting it when I was trying to get up and leave and I gave in every time.  
“Will you be ok while I’m out? Try not to bump your head. Help yourself to something for breakfast.”  
“Hey, hold on a minute. Have you had any breakfast?”  
“I’m not really hungry at the moment.”  
He humpfed and went into the kitchen, remembering to duck. I followed. He seemed to already have a good grasp of where everything was, probably helped by the fact that he’d actually put away all of the shopping. He produced pain au chocolat and all sorts of other goodies.  
“I didn’t buy any of this stuff.” I was confused again.  
“I brought enough food for both of us for three days. Remember?”  
“Not really. Yesterday is a bit of a blur. Did I fall asleep on the sofa?”  
“Yes.”  
“How in god’s name did you manage to get me up the stairs?”  
“Carefully! Half carried, half sleepwalking.”  
“Sorry about the laundry mountain in the spare room.”  
“I didn’t see it.“ Now that was a confession. That meant that he didn’t even consider sleeping in the spare room. I smiled. He slept with me in my bed because that’s what he wanted to do. Not because he had no other alternative. Those thoughts would keep me going all morning. Maybe I would tell my Mum about him. Mum had trouble remembering that I was her daughter some days and other times she just got confused by my age, thinking I was still a teenager.  
“What was that smile for?” he asked.  
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I need to go. I will be back for lunch.“ I picked up the food he had packed for me, then I reached into the second drawer and pulled out a key. “I don’t have a spare front-door key, but this is the back-door key. If you want to go out, lock the front door from the inside and go out the back. Is that ok?”  
“I’m not going anywhere. I have plenty of reading to do. I’ll just sit on your sofa and drink coffee until you get back.”  
I gave him one soft, sweet kiss goodbye and headed out. I was so happy he’d come all this way to see me. He’d missed me enough to bunk off work to come and see me. I was floating on a cloud. I could feel the smile spreading on my face as I drove.  
I told Mum all about him. I couldn’t help myself. My happiness was overflowing. She was concerned that I should finish school before I got seriously involved but overall, she was happy because I was happy. It was lovely to see Mum smile.  
My sister came back from the care home happy that it was definitely suitable, which was high praise indeed coming from her. She brought the paperwork with her and we both signed it, so that was settled. Next Monday Mum would be leaving hospital and finally going somewhere that could look after her properly. The relief flooded over me and I cried a little as I hugged my sister. Then she sent me away to take my enforced three-day break saying she didn’t want to see me again until lunchtime on Saturday.  
I arrived home a little before one. He wasn’t sat on the sofa drinking coffee. He was in the kitchen making us lunch. I called my office. With everything that had happened in the last three weeks I had almost forgotten I had a day job, but something had to pay the bills. I let them know that my Mum was doing better and would be moving to a care home on Monday. They said they would extend my compassionate leave until the end of next week and looked forward to seeing me back when I was ready. They really were a great company to work for. It was such a shame I found the job so boring.  
I sat at the kitchen table for lunch and looked over at him. He was deep in thought.  
“What’s up? What are you thinking about?”  
“I forgot you have a job.” He said. He looked like someone had just burst his happy bubble.  
“They have given me next week off to make sure Mum is settled in before I come back.”  
“But then you have to go back.” He said.  
“Unfortunately, yes. Until my writing can pay the bills.”  
“And you need to stay here next week to help your Mum.” It was more of a statement from him than a question.  
“Not really. My sister is here. She will completely take over anyway, like she does.”  
He went silent again, but I could see from the concentration on his face that he was thinking hard.  
“You look like you are planning something. Are you going to let me in on this?” I asked gently.  
“You said about your writing paying the bills. I was thinking I could try again to set up the appointments with the agents you wanted to meet with. Maybe at the end of next week. You could… I mean, I would really like it if you could come and stay with me in London for a few days.”  
“I would like that too.” I smiled. “At least you wouldn’t be bumping your head all the time.”  
We finished lunch and washed up together. He was still deep in thought.  
“Come and sit with me.” I said gently pulling him towards the sofa. “You have lots on your mind and I don’t like to see you worried like this. Talk to me.”  
We sat.  
After a moment he said, “I start filming in four weeks. I’m supposed to fly out to the states in three. I will probably be away for the best part of four months and I don’t want to leave you. Not now. I’ve only just found you. I was going to ask you to come with me. I forgot you had a job.“ He looked so sad it was breaking my heart.  
It was my turn to stop and think now. He wanted me to go with him to America and stay with him there while he was filming for months. In my dreams I always thought I would give up everything to be with him and now that option was a reality. Mum would be settled. If I could make a living writing, then I could work anywhere. I could follow him anywhere. I liked that idea. It would involve somewhat of a leap of faith in terms of actually being able to make a living from writing, but I had to try.  
“Do you really think I could make a living from my writing? Get something published? See one of my screenplays actually become a film?”  
He hugged me, “Absolutely. In fact, I have a confession.”  
I sat back a little and looked at him expectantly.  
“I have been making a lot of calls this week. I think I have a really amazing director interested in your screenplay and I have arranged a meeting once I’m in the US to discuss getting the funding. I was thinking maybe I could co-produce on this. And I have also read everything you shared. I think I can help you get at least one of those novels published. I understand your concerns and why some of the literary agents might not want to trouble themselves because the characters are from one of my previous films. But I called the writer and shared your novel and he is willing to not just give permission to use those characters, but to endorse the story too. He offered to write a foreword for you. He would also like to meet you.”  
I was glad I was sitting down. I felt like screaming but no sounds were coming out.  
“You did this for me?” I said quietly. I couldn’t quite take this in.  
“I did this for us.“ He kissed me. I melted into his arms. Maybe I could make a living from writing. Maybe this meant that we could be together. I was having trouble taking it all in. My brain was whirring with a thousand possibilities.  
“I have savings.” I said.  
“I don’t understand.”  
“I could quit my job and survive for a while. It would give me to opportunity to work on selling some of my writing and maybe even write more. I can write anywhere.”  
“You would quit your job?”  
“This house is only a rental. I could quit this house too. We still need to sort Mum’s house out if she is going into a care home but that can wait. I can store my stuff there for a while.”  
“You would give this all up to focus on your writing.”  
“I would give this all up to be with you.” I said, my heart was full to bursting. Was this too much? Too soon? I didn’t want to scare him off.  
“You would come with me then? To the US. While I am filming. You wouldn’t get bored on your own?”  
“Yes. Yes, I would love to come with you. And I am a writer. All I need is my imagination.”  
He leapt up; worries lifted he was now excited. “I just need to make a quick call.”  
He called his agent, pacing up and down as he did so, but with his head slightly stooped to avoid banging his head on the beams.  
After the call, he stopped and turned to me, “He’ll sort it out, the meetings. I suggested Wednesday and Thursday next week. That should work. I can stay here until the weekend; then would you like to join me in London on Tuesday?”  
“That sounds great. Now come and sit down before you bash you head.”  
He sat and immediately pulled me in for a hug. He didn’t let go for what felt like an age.  
“I was so scared I would lose you.” He said quietly.  
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” I laughed and kissed him. “So, three weeks until you fly out. I guess we have a lot to sort out in three weeks then, starting with sleeping arrangements.”  
“Oh yes.” He released me and sat up. “I’m afraid I only have a one-bedroom apartment arranged in the US. I will have to see if I can find something more appropriate.” He forehead wrinkled as he started to think.  
“If you think I am flying half way around the world to be with you only to sleep in separate rooms then you haven’t read a word of my writing have you.” I pulled him in and kissed him deeply. I let my hands explore his chest and down to his waist where I slipped my hand into the gap between his jumper and his jeans and stroked his skin. My hand continued to explore his skin under his jumper as his hands found their way under my t-shirt to caress my back. My body began to tremble in anticipation. His kisses travelled to my neck and as his lips brushed my ear, I heard him murmur my name, followed by “I’m falling in love with you.“ This was real. I felt a rush of emotion inside me.  
“I love you.” I whispered, “And right now I want you. I want you to kiss me, and caress me, and make love to me.“ I ran my hand down over his hip and felt, rather than heard, a sharp intake of breath. His kissed travelled back to cover my mouth, as his tongue teased mine. I could feel his passion rising through his whole body. I could barely breathe. I brought my hands up to his chest and gently pushed him back, then I stood up. He looked confused but before he could say anything, I peeled off my t-shirt and threw it at him, with a smirk.  
“What are you waiting for, lover boy?” I made a run for the stairs as he reached forward to pull me back in. I ran up the stairs giggling, turning at the top I stripped off to my underwear and waited. He appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a huge grin and a fire in his eyes. He turned his shoulders slightly to fit his tall muscular frame into the stairway then slowly, almost on his hands and knees he pushed himself up to the spot where I was waiting. From the step below the landing he peeled off his jumper as I undid the button on his jeans.  
He picked me up and carried me to the bed as he purred, “I am going to make love to you my darling, and you, you my darling are going to show me exactly how that scene on the dining room table should be done.”

[and the rest I leave to your imagination]

**Author's Note:**

> My stories tend to write themselves. I start with my characters and a situation and just let it play out. This story took on a life of its own. The straight to a happy ending formula just didn't seem to be working so I had to rip them apart, in order to bring them together.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading and I would love to hear your comments.
> 
> Also, if you have any ideas for any other HOW I MET... stories just tell me a bit about the two characters and the initial situation and maybe I will be able to write it :-)


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